


Hypnagogia /Paranoia

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Implied Murder, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Sleep Deprivation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard's not a murderer... At least, he doesn't think he is... Everything is just running together. Nothing seems real. Everything is real...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hyp·na·gog·ia (hipnəˈgäjiə) : Hypnagogia is the experience of the transitional state from wakefulness to sleep: the hypnagogic state of consciousness. 
> 
> par·a·noi·a (parəˈnoiə) : Paranoia is a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically elaborated into an organized system. It may be an aspect of chronic personality disorder, of drug abuse, or of a serious condition such as schizophrenia in which the person loses touch with reality.

Gerard woke up in a room full of blood spatters with the same crimson staining his hands and smeared across his clothes.

He sat up with a gasp and choked in horror at the sight around him. Four bodies lay at various odd angles around him—Bob propped up in the corner to his right, Ray lying face down at his feet, Mikey curled into a ball by the door, and Frank laying at Gerard’s side—mouth open and draining blood.

“Frank?” Gerard said nervously, beginning to tremble as he reached out to touch the other man. His body was frozen and cold, dark blood dribbling from his mouth into a pool on the floor. “Frank,” Gerard said again, moving stiffly in order to check his friend for any signs of life—a breath, a pulse, _anything._

But there was nothing. 

Gerard began to sob as he shook Frank’s shoulder feebly. Frank’s left hand was folded around his slashed throat, but his right arm was slightly extended as if reaching out to his attacker.

_I want it to be quick for you._ Gerard heard a voice echo in his memory. The voice sounded so eerily like his own, but he couldn’t stand the thought.

_Please._ That was Frank’s voice—begging. _Please, don’t do this._

Gerard let out a loud wail and grabbed Frank’s shoulders to lift him off the floor. He pulled Frank’s rigid body to his chest and held him tightly, choking on the scent of the blood and the other gore of the room.

_It’ll go fast._ Gerard heard a phantom of himself say.

_No, Gerard, please! Please!_ Frank’s final, eternal words…

“Mikey?” Gerard whimpered, looking back towards the curled figure by the door. Slowly, he laid Frank’s body back down onto the bloody floor and pressed a kiss on his frozen lips before crawling away.

He moved towards the body of his brother—but not before he remembered Ray lying at his feet.

Gerard froze for a moment, scared and helpless, but forced himself to roll Ray’s body onto his back. He couldn’t muffle the high-pitched whine that escaped his throat when he saw Ray’s bloodied and battered face. Clots of blood had built up over his open, gaping eyes, and his hair was matted with the same dark, sticky liquid.

_Stop! Gerard, stop!_ Ray’s voice in Gerard’s memory was firm and angry. But it quickly turned frantic. His commands became pleas. _Gerard—come on. Please, Gerard. Please! This isn’t you! Don’t do this! You don’t want to do this!_

Gerard began to sob as his own voice echoed in his head—telling Ray to shut up and _die._

Why had he done this? Why had he hurt his friends?—his best friends, his _only_ friends? Frank’s throat slit, Ray’s face and head battered almost unrecognizably…and Mikey?

Sobbing, Gerard crawled through the blood away from Ray and towards Mikey. Mikey was more than a friend, Mikey was his _brother._ He couldn’t have killed his own brother.

He felt the blood seep into his clothes and stain them further. The blood of his friends…mixing on his flesh.

But it couldn’t be their blood. He _couldn’t_ have killed his friends. He _loved_ them. This was all a bad dream or a set up—someone else had murdered them and hurt them and left him behind to look guilty. 

Gerard couldn’t help but cry because he knew he had somehow done this. Why else would his friends have screamed his name in their pleas? His only hope was that this was somehow a nightmare—an incredibly lucid nightmare.

He whimpered as he crawled towards Mikey’s curled body on hands and knees. His body was shaking too hard for him to consider standing and he was afraid that he would slip on the blood.

Mikey was the only one not bathed in blood, and Gerard momentarily believed that Mikey was just sleeping. He was just lying on the floor, unaware of the terror around him just as Gerard had been. He was sleeping—just sleeping. Just _sleeping!_

“Mikey,” Gerard sobbed pitifully, shaking his brother’s shoulder. Mikey didn’t move. “Wake up,” he begged. “Please, Mikey.” But Mikey was still and silent.

Mikey lay with his eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream. Bruises marred his neck and throat, and his arms were pulled to his chest as if he’d been clawing at his attacker’s hands.

Gerard shook his brother’s shoulders harder and then released him with a loud wail that bled off into a horrid cry. 

His brother! His little brother!

_Gerard,_ Mikey choked distantly. _Gerard!_ A weak wheeze.

Gerard sobbed hard and smacked his forehead against the floor hard as if it would rid him of the voices.

_Let go, Mikey. It won’t hurt._

_Gerard…_ Mikey’s dying word had been his murderer’s name.

“Mikey!” He screamed, pulling his own hair as he folded himself down onto the only patch of dry floor in the room. “Mikey—don’t leave me here. Mikey, I’m scared.” He knew his cries fell on the deaf ears of a corpse, but he prayed that his brother’s soul was somewhere near. He wanted Mikey with him. He didn’t want to be alone in this room of horror and hell.

“Let me wake up. I didn’t do this,” Gerard wept into the concrete, his tears mixing with his drool on the floor. “I wouldn’t do this!” He screamed, choking on the tears that ran into his mouth and plagued his tongue. “Wake up, wake up,” he chanted desperately. 

Repeatedly, he banged his forehead against the ground, feeling the pain rip through his skull and shoot down through his teeth. He tried to focus on the pain to see if it would fade away, but it wouldn’t. It stayed strong like the lingering smell of death in the room.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream…

Gerard slowly pulled himself up onto his knees and cried weakly. Why had he done this? He searched his mind for a spark of anger or a reason, but there was nothing…

He killed Frank, then Ray, then Bob…then Mikey just as he came in the room.

Gerard chanced a look at Bob’s slumped form in the corner of the room, but didn’t go near. He could tell Bob was dead—the voices were in his memory.

_What the hell’s gotten into you!? Get off of him—Stop!_ How had he overpowered Bob, though? Bob was so strong and Gerard knew himself to be weak…

_Bob!_ Gerard’s voice screamed with hellish ferocity. _Back off!_ He’d thrown back his elbow and broke Bob’s nose—Bob having been behind him, prying him off of Ray. After that, he’d grabbed his knife from his belt and buried it in Bob’s stomach…and slowly dragged it up, cutting his friend open.

_Gerard?_ That was Mikey’s voice and the door had creaked open. _Ge…Gerard, what…_ Gerard remembered lunging for Mikey instantly, leaving his knife in Bob’s gut. Mikey backed into the door, closing it, too frozen to run from the maniac who launched himself at him.

Gerard remembered the feeling as his hands squeezed around Mikey’s throat.

Gerard sobbed helplessly and latched onto his brother’s lifeless body once again. He pushed his head under Mikey’s chin and wept onto his chest.

He was sorry, he was so sorry. Nothing they could’ve done or said made them deserving of this. Frank—his best friend and only love—laid against the wall with his throat slit. His dreams and hopes robbed of him. Ray and Bob, all of their talent wasted and their lives cut short by their maniac front man. And Mikey…

Gerard couldn’t even think of it. His brother—his _little brother!_

How could he have done this? How could he have hurt them? They were his best friends—he _loved_ them! He needed them to live—he had no purpose without them. 

Again, Gerard screamed and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that it would all fade away—the stink, the blood, the utter horror and terror.

The scream grew louder to Gerard’s own ears, and he had to cover them against the sound as he pressed farther against Mikey’s softening chest. The sound wouldn’t stop, even as Gerard closed his mouth. The scream just kept getting louder as it turned into a loud, long sob.

Gerard pulled his eyes open to see who was making the noise if it wasn’t himself, only to find himself blind. The screaming, he came to realize, was his own, but he was too afraid to stop it now. He was blind, and still in the room with the corpses of his friends. 

“Gerard?” Gerard stopped breathing and went silent. Whose voice? All of his friends were dead, whose voice was that in the dark? Gerard pushed back against what he thought to be Mikey’s body, but it was too soft. “Gerard, are you okay?” 

Suddenly, there was light and Gerard’s vision had returned. He was in bed—he was in his bunk on the bus…

“Mikey?” Gerard managed to breathe, even though he was staring at Ray’s face through the parted curtain and not his little brother’s. 

“Mikey’s sleeping, he’s okay,” Ray said, pushing the curtain for Gerard’s bunk back farther. “What’s the matter?” Gerard stared at him and panted, trying hard to catch his breath.

A dream? It really had only been a dream?

“Nightmares again?” Ray asked, waiting patiently for Gerard to find words. Gerard didn’t know what to say—all he could think of was Ray’s formerly bloody face.

“Mikey?” He said again. It was the only word he knew.

“I don’t…I don’t want to wake him up, Gerard.” Gerard moved to get out of his bunk, but Ray put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still. “Are you okay?”

“Frank?” Gerard said. Ray moved away from him and cleared a path for Gerard to get to Frank’s bunk. Gerard fell out of his bunk, unable to find the muscles of his legs, but Ray managed to catch him before his face hit the floor. 

“Gerard—what did you dream?” Ray asked, rubbing Gerard’s back soothingly. Gerard couldn’t answer him. He had to check on Frank and make sure his throat was in one piece. 

Ray pulled Frank’s curtain open so Gerard wouldn’t have to, and Gerard found himself peering into the other man’s bunk without lifting himself off of his knees on the floor.

“See?” Ray said. “He’s sleeping—he’s fine.” Frank rolled over and groaned against the light invading his once dark cubby. 

“What?” Frank moaned. “Why you wake me up?” He groaned and pulled his eyes open, only to pull back closer to the wall when he saw Gerard staring at him from the floor. “Whoa…something up, buddy?” 

Gerard stared at him and slowly started to smile.

Alive. His friends were still alive. It was just a nightmare. An awful nightmare.

“Another nightmare,” Ray said. “He won’t tell me about it.”

“Nightmare, hu?” Frank said, falling back down against his bed in exhaustion. “Well—Gee, it’s a dream. Get some sleep or you’ll get sick.”

Gerard stared at him for a moment, letting the images of the blood and gore fade from him mind. 

“Sorry,” Gerard managed to say, getting slowly to his feet and stumbling back into his own bunk. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake everyone.”

“Put a gag in your mouth before you go to sleep next time,” Bob called irritably from his bunk. “You scream like a broad in a horror film.” Gerard found comfort in the angry words—simply because if Bob was talking, it meant he was alive.

“Shut…up…Bob,” Mikey grunted. Gerard felt all the fear trickle out of him, except for the aftershocks of the nightmare that still plagued his brain as he nestled back into his bunk. Everyone was okay—he hadn’t killed anyone. He had all of his friends, and none of them knew what terrible thoughts had been brewing in his mind.

Gerard rolled onto his stomach and opened his eyes briefly as he heard someone shut off the light in the bunk room. 

A chill instantly ran through his body when it was no longer his bed he was lying on…it was Mikey’s frigid chest. 

No. No, no, no. No, this wasn’t possible. No! It was a dream—it was a dream! He couldn’t have fallen back into the dream unless…unless everything that had happened in the bunk room was the dream. 

“No!” Gerard screamed. “No—no! Mikey!” Gerard pulled at Mikey’s body again and then slammed himself back against the door to the dim, reeking room. “Frankie! Please! God, please, no.” Gerard sobbed and buried his face in his blood encrusted hands. “Mikey—Mikey, Frank…”

Weeping, Gerard stared across the room at Ray and Frank’s bodies. How had he ended up here? What was he supposed to do now? Call the cops on himself and get locked up in a mental ward at a high-security prison? He didn’t feel up to running.

The only real option was…to die. Suicide. Join his friends on the other side and beg for forgiveness. Supposing they’d be waiting for him, even if it was just to get an answer for what he’d done. 

Gerard sobbed softly and looked for the knife in the dim room. He saw it glistening next to Bob’s body, somehow still shiny despite being coated in blood. It was far—Gerard didn’t feel that he had the strength to carry himself that far across the room. 

Slowly, though…slowly, he started to crawl. He dragged himself through the drying, thickening blood towards the knife. Gerard couldn’t live in a world where he’d done this. He couldn’t live alone…in a jail cell or a mental ward. Though he felt he deserved a million loaded needles shooting into his body at once, covering him from head to toe. He deserved needles in his eyes and his spine and his stomach. 

He deserved to suffer, but he was too weak to suffer. Gerard knew he was pathetic, and he hated himself—but that hate was miniscule. It was just a drop in the ocean of his despair. 

He killed his friends…he destroyed their lives, and their families’ lives, and his own meaningless life.

By the time the knife was in his hands, Gerard had collapsed back into tears at Bob’s lifeless feet. He wanted someone to console him, but everyone was gone. Everyone was dead—and he needed to see them again. 

Alternately screaming and crying, Gerard dragged himself over to Frank’s body. Frank always made him feel better when he screwed up. Frank forgave him for everything—every temper tantrum on stage, every ego explosion, every selfish excursion. Frank forgave him…but Frank couldn’t forgive him now.

“Frank,” Gerard sobbed, laying down with his head resting on Frank’s blood soaked-chest. “Frankie—Frankie, baby…” Gerard didn’t care that Frank’s blood was staining him and soaking his skin. He wanted Frank to be a part of him forever…he always had.

Why would he do this? Why would he do this to them? To himself? Why did he take away the only things that could give him happiness? If he only knew…if he only could remember what made him mad.

Wasting no more time on his pain, Gerard looked across the room at Mikey’s body and dug the blade of the knife into his wrist as he lay on top of Frank. He listened to his skin crack and split, and then heard the satisfying drip of his blood on the floor. 

Darkness was coming back…but it was almost too soon for one cut on one wrist. Gerard lay still and accepted it, feeling his body grow heavy atop Frank’s. 

“Yes,” Gerard sighed. “Yes…” Because it was dark and he felt weak. He was dying…he was dead.  
“Gerard…what are you doing?” Gerard pulled his eyes open and stared at the light. Heaven? That was Frank’s voice—had he made it to Heaven where his friends were? Where his little brother was?...and his grandma, too?

“Frankie,” Gerard breathed, staring at the yellow light and not the shadows moving around him.

“Gerard…come on. We’ve got to work.”

“I think he’s sick.” That was Ray’s voice—Ray made it to Heaven, too…but why would he worry about sickness in Heaven?

“Why?” Mikey asked. He sounded so sleepy…but why would Mikey be tired in Heaven? Was this Hell?

Gerard whimpered softly and felt his eyes start to tear again. He didn’t want to go there—he really didn’t. He wanted to see his family and everyone he missed before he’d killed his friends.

“Gerard?” Mikey again. “Gerard, dude, why are you crying? It’s a few vocals—you can record vocals. It’s not that hard.” They were still recording music in Hell? 

Gerard finally found the nerve endings necessary to move his eyes from the light over him and stared in shock at his little brother’s face. 

“Mikey?” Gerard mumbled. His brother was standing over him, staring at him in confusion.

“He was weird last night—he was screaming,” Ray said. “You woke up for a minute, Mikey.”

“I woke up to Bob talking about gagging people. Pissed me off.” Gerard stared up at Mikey in terror and confusion. A dream? He remembered the trick—thinking he’d left the horror only to wake up in the blood and despair once again. 

“My poor boy,” Frank said, stepping into Gerard’s upward gaze. “Why aren’t you in your bunk, Gerard?” Frank asked, squatting down at Gerard’s side and poking his shoulder. The touch felt real, but… _this_ was the dream. This was his mind’s last trick as he slowly bled out atop Frank’s drained body.

“He fall out of bed?” Bob asked. Gerard felt like a body on an autopsy table. Everyone he saw, he saw standing above him and looking down at him. He was afraid to stand up beside them—any movement could end the dream… “Why isn’t he talking?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said quickly, looking up at Ray. “I’m…I’m worried.”

“He’s fine,” Mikey said. “I’ll get him some coffee.”

“Good idea,” Ray said. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you’re doing that.” Ray knelt down beside Frank and placed his hand on Gerard’s forehead as if feeling for a fever.

Why check for a fever when they’re already dead?

“What’s wrong, Gee?” Frank asked, stroking Gerard’s cheek. Gerard managed to lift his hand to entwine his fingers with his lover’s.

“Nightmares again,” Ray said. 

“About what?” Frank asked. “Hm?” He was so gentle, Frank was. Gerard felt that he loved him too much to take a blade to his throat…

Just the memory of Frank’s slashed throat and lifeless eyes made Gerard start to sob. He covered his face with his hands, unable to look at the false hope of his friends’ animated faces. They couldn’t be alive. He killed them. He’d killed them in a blind rage.

“Gerard,” Frank called softly, petting Gerard’s hair. “ _That bad?_ ”

“Something’s wrong,” Bob said, sitting down on the floor by Gerard’s feet. 

“Gerard, sit up,” Ray said, grabbing Gerard’s shoulders and actually forcing him to sit up and prop himself against the uncomfortable rack that was the outside of his bunk. “Better?”

Gerard stared at Ray’s face, waiting for the unblemished skin to turn back into its bruised and bloody state. This dream was torture…this was purgatory.

“Gee?” Frank said, shaking Gerard by his shoulder. “Say something, buddy.”

“Frank,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. “How…how are you feeling?” Gerard stared at him and his un-slit throat. His eyes full of life and his lips clean of blood. “You’re scaring me—come on! Say something!”

Gerard stared at him and swallowed hard. He couldn’t say anything—it would break the peace. And yes, there was peace in Hell and purgatory.

“Can we have a minute?” Frank said softly, looking over his shoulder at Ray and Bob.

“Yeah,” Bob said, getting up and leaving almost too quickly.

“Um…sure,” Ray said, leaving with a lot more reluctance than Bob. When they were alone, Frank leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Gerard’s cheek. Gerard closed his eyes at the feeling and savored it. It would probably be the last kiss he’d ever get from Frank, even if it wasn’t really happening.

“Gee…what’s wrong?” Frank asked, scooting closer and putting a hand on Gerard’s shoulder.

“I’m…dying,” Gerard said softly, looking at Frank’s perfect face and forcing a smile. 

“Dying?” Frank said, caught off-guard. “What do you mean? Like, from the tour? You’re exhausted?—dying?”

“Dying,” Gerard said, raising the wrist he had slit. The wound was covered by his shirt, and he doubted that it even existed in this purgatory…this mental dream. Frank still stared at his raised arm in horror.

“What do you mean?” Frank said, grabbing Gerard’s arm and pulling it to himself. “What did you do?” Frank pushed back Gerard’s sleeve and proved Gerard’s suspicion correct. He wasn’t injured in this hellish dream. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” Frank shouted. 

“I’ll be with you soon,” Gerard said, folding his hand into Frank’s and sighing. He wished everything he was seeing and feeling was real—wished that it had all been a nightmare. But he knew that as soon as he accepted this as real, he’d fall back into the truth.

He’d killed Frank, so they couldn’t be sitting on the floor of the bus holding hands.

“What do you mean?” Frank said, sounding tired and annoyed.

“I killed you…I’m sorry.” Gerard looked into Frank’s eyes and understood that his boyfriend in this world didn’t remember anything that had happened.

“Killed me? Jesus, are you still on about that nightmare you had last night?”

“Not a nightmare,” Gerard mumbled, looking away from his boyfriend’s sweet face.

“Yeah it was,” Frank said. “Gerard, you had a dream—a _bad_ dream.”

“I killed you,” Gerard said. “You and Ray…” Gerard felt his eyes start to tear and covered his face with his hands, releasing Frank’s hand. “And Bob and M—and…and M-Mikey,” Gerard sobbed.

“Aw…Gee, it was just a dream. If we were dead, how could we all be here? And last night—don’t you remember waking us all up last night?”

“That was the dream,” Gerard tried to explain. “It was a dream…and then I woke up and you were dead.”

“Wait…you’re…Gerard, do you think you’re dreaming right now?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded and dropped his hands. “You don’t think there’s a possibility that you had the bad dream, woke up last night, and then fell _back_ into the dream?” Gerard looked at him nervously. He wanted to believe that again…he wanted to believe that this wasn’t the nightmare and that the horror in the blood-drenched room was. “I mean, besides the _nightmare_ what do you remember?”

“Nothing…” Gerard answered.

“No—yesterday night, we played a gig in Atlanta.” As soon as he said it, the memory returned. He saw flashing lights, remembered the feel of the mic in his hands and the sounds of the crowd. He remembered it all… “Now, think of the dream—how did it start?”

“Woke up,” Gerard mumbled. “Woke up and everyone was dead.”

“Where were you?” Frank asked, rubbing Gerard’s shoulder and then squeezing it gently. 

“In a room.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Slowly, Gerard started feeling the relief flood his chest. He didn’t know anything about that other world. Dreams were like that—you just woke up and accepted where you were. That was exactly what he’d done. He’d woken up in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from and accepted it as reality without using his brain. 

“And then…do you remember how—how we all died?”

“I killed you,” Gerard said, shuddering at the images in his head. “Slit your throat…beat Ray, stabbed Bob. Strangled Mikey.” Gerard started to sob again and buried his face in Frank’s shoulder. Frank held him close and rubbed his back.

“It’s okay, baby. It was just a dream,” Frank said soothingly. Gerard nuzzled his neck and tried to let the images fade, replacing them with his memories of the concert in Atlanta, and the day before it when he’d sat around on the bus playing video games with his band. 

“Hey,” Mikey called from outside of the bunk room. “I got Gerard his coffee—tell me you’ve both still got your clothes on.”

“Yeah,” Frank growled. “We’re not teenagers.” Mikey slid into the room and stared at them for a moment, waiting for Gerard to look at him. As soon as Gerard looked up from Frank’s chest, Mikey handed him the cup.

“Feeling better?” Mikey asked, one brow raised as he crossed his arms over his chest. Gerard stared at him and took a gentle sip of the scalding coffee. “Yes? No?”

“I think he’ll be okay,” Frank said, scooting closer to Gerard on the floor and holding one of his hands loosely. Gerard relished the touch and tried to focus on how real it felt.

“He’d better—we need vocals.”

“I think he needs more rest,” Frank said firmly. Gerard stared at his brother vacantly, not arguing one side or another, but almost certain that he couldn’t possibly sing right now. 

“So he can have more nightmares? I don’t think so.” Gerard lowered his gaze and then passed a sideways glance to Frank.

“He has to sleep at some point,” Mikey muttered. “Maybe if he slept in your bunk he’d be better off.” Gerard looked up at Mikey nervously—remembering how his bandmates used to forbid them to share a bunk because they ‘abused’ that privilege too many times before. “Then if he has a nightmare, maybe you can wake him up before he gets too confused.”

“I could do that,” Frank said, rubbing Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard sighed and fell away into the feeling, drinking his bitter coffee and accepting that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t all a dream. “Would you like that?” Frank asked, squeezing Gerard tightly. Gerard cooed and snuggled into Frank’s side.

He was so lucky to have friends like this—he would never do anything to hurt them. Never. He loved them so much—not just Frank and not just Mikey. Ray and Bob too—they all meant so much to him. 

“Do you think you could record some vocals today?” Frank asked soothingly. “Our next concert isn’t for another two days—so you’ve got time to rest up still.”

“Fortunately,” Mikey seemed to seethe. “You know your voice turns to shit when you don’t sleep.” Gerard let out a quiet whine and snuggled against Frank more while sipping his coffee. 

“Then maybe he could take a nap before recording today,” Frank said, sounding like he was becoming angry. “And maybe you should take one, too. You’re being an ass.”

“Whatever,” Mikey mumbled, turning and leaving the bunk room. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Frank muttered. “He’s your brother, _you_ know how he gets.” Gerard sighed and snuggled up closer to Frank, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his pulse where their bodies touched. “So…do you wanna take a nap?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, feeling cozy and warm. He was exhausted, and the coffee he was numb to wasn’t keeping him up—if anything, the warm drink was lulling him back to sleep. 

He felt safe—like the dreams wouldn’t come back if he curled up in Frank’s bunk with him. He set his coffee aside and let Frank pull him up from the uncomfortable floor. Gerard followed his warmth into Frank’s bunk and crawled inside, his back to the wall as far as he could push so there would be room enough for Frank to cuddle up beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard pressed a kiss onto Frank’s lips as soon as Frank had the curtain drawn and Frank returned the kiss a little deeper—running his tongue along Gerard’s lower lip. Gerard moaned gently, knowing the two of them couldn’t do anything more, but wanting to badly. 

“We could,” Frank moaned, pushing his body even closer to Gerard’s. “If we’re quiet,” he whispered. Gerard made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and pushed up against Frank. “Yeah?” Frank asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss on Gerard’s lip and running his tongue slowly across his lip. 

Gerard moaned and involuntarily grinded his hips against Frank’s. He felt guilty when Frank cried out in mixed euphoria and joy—they hadn’t had a chance to be together in over a month and a half—because he really didn’t think he could do anything knowing Mikey was in the next room and with his mind split between images of Frank in sexy poses and Frank lying on the ground with his throat slit. 

“You’re so sexy,” Frank said, kissing his way from Gerard’s mouth to his neck after reaching up to turn on the dim light inside the bunk—he liked being able to see. Gerard tried to protest, but his words turned to a moan when Frank started palming him through his pants. “Love you so much,” Frank moaned, licking a stripe from Gerard’s collarbone up his throat to his lower lip. Gerard let out a quiet, shuddery moan and shivered. “What do you want?—I’ll give you anything you want.”

Gerard was panting too hard to ask for anything, moaning and bucking against Frank’s palm. 

“Want me to blow you?” Frank asked, attaching his lips to Gerard’s neck and sucking gently. Gerard cried out, wanting to say yes but knowing he couldn’t return the favor. “I will,” Frank said, licking Gerard’s throat slowly as if to prove his point.

“No,” Gerard moaned, trying to get his hips away from Frank’s touches so he could think clearly. His little brother was in the next room! If he—or Bob or Ray—heard a sound, they’d freak out.

“No?” Frank asked. “I don’t think we can do much else in these bunks…Handjob?” Gerard found himself nodding vigorously and Frank beamed at him. “Okay.” Frank quickly slid his hand into Gerard’s pants and started jerking him slowly. 

Gerard moaned into the pillow, wanting to scream but knowing better. Touch felt good—it felt real and true. 

“Me too, baby?” Frank mewled, the hand that wasn’t pleasuring Gerard sticking down the front of his own jeans. Gerard snaked his arm around Frank’s and opened his fly, pulling out his member and brushing Frank’s hand away in order to stroke it softly. 

Frank closed his eyes tightly and let out a quiet moan, squeezing his hand tightly around the base of Gerard’s cock. Gerard moaned, a lot louder than Frank, and bucked into Frank’s hand, trying to keep his hand moving so Frank wouldn’t feel ignored.

Gerard loved the feeling of Frank bucking into his hand, the smoothness and slickness of his skin—loved the sounds of his breaths, hot and heavy. He loved the lidded look on Frank’s face and the way his bottom lip was always wet when he was being pleasured. 

Frank began pumping him faster and Gerard moaned again, thrusting into Frank’s hand and moving his own hand across Frank’s member in time with the movements. 

Gerard wished he was as good as Frank was at this—wished he could make Frank feel as good as Frank made him feel—but he would wait for a better time to ask for tips on how to be better…a time when Frank wouldn’t just say ‘you’re perfect’ and ‘this is good enough for me.’

Gerard loved this. Loved Frank—loved his skin and his entire presence. He would never hurt Frank—he couldn’t lose this. It wasn’t just the sex, it was their connection. They were best friends, best friends who could fulfill all of each other’s needs. He’d never slit Frank’s throat and ruin this…

As soon as he came, Gerard felt the guilt wash over him. He didn’t like it when Frank finished last, and he didn’t like that this was Frank’s bunk and Frank—always desperate to be clean—would have to sleep on the mess because there weren’t spare sheets. 

“It’s fine,” Frank moaned, as if reading Gerard’s thoughts. “It’s okay.” Gerard still felt bad, even after Frank had released on his hand and he had begun to lick it clean. “You don’t have to do that,” Frank said sleepily, laying spent on the mattress and staring Gerard in the face. 

Gerard considered wiping what was left on the sheets—or his own pant leg—but chose to make a show of licking the last few drops off of his fingers. He knew what life was going to be like without Frank—he didn’t want to miss a single taste of him. Who knew how many more he would get? He wanted to show Frank his appreciation.

“You’re so hot,” Frank mumbled before reaching up and turning off the light in his bunk. They cuddled close and Gerard buried his head under Frank’s chin. He felt so safe in the cramped space—unreachable and protected. Warm…so, so warm….

But Frank must’ve shifted away because he suddenly felt the warmth leave him. 

“Frank?” Gerard called, opening his eyes even though he knew it would be dark…

But it wasn’t.

Gerard screamed immediately because he knew where this place was even before he felt the sticky blood on his hands. 

“No!” He cried, instantly feeling the tears fall from his eyes. “No! No!” Even if this was a dream, it was still torture. He didn’t like imaging a world where his friends were dead—where he was alone and cold.

Gerard lifted his face and stared into Frank’s half-open, dead eyes. He was cuddled up to a corpse, and in this world that was as close to Frank as he could ever be.

“Frankie!” Gerard screamed, hoping the real Frank would hear and wake him up from this nightmare. “Frank, help me!”

But Gerard’s voice just echoed off of the concrete walls.

Gerard whimpered and scooted away from Frank’s body. He found himself staring at Mikey’s corpse by the doorway and started sobbing hard. Why was he having this dream? What was he being told? 

That he was bad for his friends? That he deserved to be alone? That he was evil, mean, and heartless? What was the message?

Gerard buried his head in his hands and slowly rocked himself back and forth, hoping to wait the dream out. He’d have to wake up sometime—it would end eventually. 

He cried quietly into his hands, trying not to think about how real the tears in his palms felt…or how truly salty they tasted on his lips. The smell of the gore made him cry harder as time bled on. 

Hours had passed and he knew it. The dream wasn’t fading—the senses were staying the same and every time he took a breath he was once again afraid that he was awake…that everything he thought was real—being in the bunkroom, making love with Frank—that was all the dream.

Gerard screamed and lifted his head from his hands, looking around the room desperately and hoping the blood and corpses would disappear. He loved horror films, but he never wanted to be in one. He sometimes sympathized with the murderers in those films, but he couldn’t understand himself or why he’d done what he had.

Why kill Frank when they were so good together? Why hurt Bob when he’d done nothing to him? Or torture Ray? Or strangle Mikey?

He _loved_ them! He had no reason to do this horrible thing!—so it had to be a dream, right? It couldn’t _be_ real!

“Frank!” Gerard screamed, hoping to break the nightmare. His voice echoed still on the walls. “Get me out of here!” He cried.

Throwing himself onto his feet, he felt his body weight toss from side to side. When he tried to reach the door, his body just became even more heavy and off-centered. When he reached for the doorknob, hoping that some kind of salvation was on the other side of the steel door, his body toppled over, spilling him over onto the corpse of his brother.

He tried to break his fall, but couldn’t. All of his weight fell onto Mikey’s bloated chest and he heard a crack…like one or more of the ribs had broken.

Instantly, Gerard’s stomach lurched. He backed off of Mikey’s body, screaming out apologies even though Mikey couldn’t hear. Somewhere in between a plead for forgiveness and a choked cry, he started to gag. 

He stared at Mikey’s face—mouth open, eyes staring emptily from behind smudged glasses. The more he stared, the sicker he felt until his gagging became stronger and he toppled over in dry heaves. 

He sniffed and swallowed hard, trying to keep everything down, but after three more cries his stomach tightened again and he retched hard. He laid his head on the floor and sighed heavily before the next wave hit him.

This time he felt the burning in the back of his throat and he closed his eyes tightly, preparing for the next lurch. With a sob, the retch hit him and he fell forward as his body forced up the contents of his stomach.

“Ugh!—Shit…Gerard!” Gerard opened his eyes quickly and stared at darkness. He could feel someone moving beside him, and recognized Frank’s voice. 

He was back in the bunk room, but he still felt dizzy and nauseous, and he could smell his own vomit before Frank tore open the curtain and let the light in. 

“Frankie?” Gerard moaned, feeling like he might be sick again.

“Don’t—don’t worry about it!” Frank almost fell out of the bunk while carefully taking off his soaked shirt and groaning as he tried to think of what to do with it.

Gerard stared at him and then looked over the sheets. There wasn’t a drop on the sheets—all of it fell on Frank. He sobbed quietly and nuzzled the pillow, feeling guilty with every move. He belonged on the floor…not in Frank’s bed.

“I’m gonna…just put it in the trash,” Frank said, holding his bundle of a shirt in front of him slightly as he walked out of the bunk room.

Gerard felt exhausted, tired of living two lives—one that was full and one which was empty. He wanted to cut both of his wrists—whichever was real and whichever was dreamt—just so the torture would end for sure.

He tried squirming out of Frank’s bunk, but Frank was coming back into the room and caught him.

“No—lay down. You don’t need to get up,” Frank said, not sounding comforting at all. It just encouraged Gerard to slip past him and crawl into his own bunk. “Gerard!” Gerard didn’t respond, just folded into himself and pulled his blankets over his head.

Frank sighed loudly and stood beside Gerard’s bunk.

“The dream again?” Frank asked. Gerard didn’t answer, feeling cornered and weak. He wasn’t usually this pathetic—but all he wanted was to sleep and not go to that bad place. “Gerard?”

“I love you…” Gerard mumbled. Somehow, it seemed like the right thing to say.

“I know, Gee, but you don’t have to—”

“Yes I do,” Gerard mumbled. “Who knows what I’ll do next…”

“What? Piss on me? It’s not like that hasn’t happened before when you were drunk…I don’t care. You’re not well—I don’t blame you.”

“I’m going insane…”

“No you’re not. You’ve just got a really bad recurring dream that’s got you scared shitless…” Frank forced his way into Gerard’s bunk and Gerard felt safe and _scared._ He liked having Frank close, but now he was feeling claustrophobic.

“I’m so tired,” Gerard whimpered, feeling like he might cry. He was exhausted and humiliated. He felt like a child for being so afraid of a nightmare, but he couldn’t explain how real both places felt. It was like two dimensions—not the conscious and unconscious, but a parallel universe that he was somehow slipping between. And he was terrified that those two worlds would somehow cross.

What if he sleepwalked and killed them? Gerard began to sob as the realization hit him—that possibility was far too conceivable. It seemed like something that could happen.

“Aw, Gee—don’t cry. It’s okay.” Frank rubbed his back soothingly and Gerard buried himself in his blankets and pillow. 

“I’m just so tired,” he sobbed. “I want to sleep! I want to sleep…” Frank just kept rubbing his back and shoulder heavily, trying to keep him calm.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry…” Gerard rolled over and buried his face in Frank’s bare chest, letting his boyfriend hold him and trying to soak up as much sensation as he could. He wanted to know that this was real and not a dream—and try to keep the touch present even in his dreams. “Do you think…some sleeping pills would help?” Gerard cried and shook his head—he didn’t want doped up, and he didn’t want trapped in that awful place. “Baby…I’m sorry. Just try to sleep, okay? It’s not a real place…it’s just a dream.”

“But I _killed_ you in it!” Gerard wailed. “You’re dead!—everyone’s dead and it’s _my fault._ ”

“What happens in this dream?” Frank asked, propping himself up on his elbow and petting Gerard’s hair with his free hand.

“I’m in a room,” Gerard cried. “And you’re all dead.”

“And then what?” Frank asked. Gerard sobbed because he couldn’t explain the horror of it. It would just sound stupid if he told Frank he was stuck in a room with four corpses and spent the majority of the dream crying and laying on the bodies. “You’re in the room and…and you killed us…then what?”

“Then I…cry,” Gerard sniffed. “It’s just so awful—Frank, everyone’s dead!”

“I know,” Frank said softly, stroking Gerard’s cheek. “What happened the last time? Why did it make you sick?”

“I…when I tried to leave the room I got really dizzy.” 

“So…you can’t leave the room?” Frank asked. Gerard shook his head and pressed his body closer to Frank’s. “Hm…maybe it’s like a puzzle—like there’s something in the room you’re missing and you have to find it in order to get out.”

“I don’t want to look, Frank,” Gerard whimpered. “There’s so much blood and—and death. I love you so much.” Gerard got his arms around Frank and pulled him as close as possible, not a space between their chests.

“I know—it’s okay. I love you, too. It’s alright.” 

“It’s not,” Gerard sobbed. “It’s really not.”

“Shh,” Frank cooed, kissing the top of his head. “Get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Gerard whimpered as he nuzzled Frank’s skin…soft and warm. Soft…warm…slowly moving…he could feel Frank’s breath on his hair. Soft…safe…alive…warm…

Wet. Cold. Solid. 

Gerard whimpered and the whimper turned into a scream of frustration and agony. 

“I hate this place!” Gerard screamed. “I hate this place! I hate this place!” He shouted until his voice went raw. Slowly, he lifted his head from the concrete floor and stared at the mixture of blood and vomit he’d been laying in. “Fuck this place!”

Trying to ignore the bodies around him, Gerard pulled himself onto his unsteady feet and stepped over the imitation corpse of his little brother and grabbed onto the handle of the door. 

“Open…” Gerard said, just in case the door was planning to refuse. The handle turned and Gerard closed his eyes tightly as he slowly opened it. He tried to think of Frank sleeping beside him in the bunk just so his imagination couldn’t create any more horrors. 

After taking a step into whatever room or corridor was beyond the large cell, Gerard slowly opened his eyes and felt the nausea and horror return to him. He was standing in the bunk room on the bus, staring at the dimly-lit space where all but one of the curtains were pulled. Frank’s bunk was open…but that was because Frank was sleeping in his bunk, wasn’t it?

“Shit,” Gerard breathed, turning to look behind him. The cell was gone, replaced by the sitting room of their bus. “Oh, shit…” All of Gerard’s nerves began to buzz—was he dreaming or was he awake? Had he sleepwalked and somehow woken up on his way back to bed. “No,” Gerard cried, starting to sob. 

“Gerard…go to bed,” he heard someone call. It sounded like Ray.

Gerard tried to keep from screaming and set to picking at his flesh, checking for the blood that had been on him before but had vanished. He just kept picking, feeling the pain but not believing that it was real.

He was in the bunk with Frank—he hadn’t gotten out of bed, Frank would’ve woken him. It was a dream, so he could pick off layers of flesh and he’d be fine.

“Frank?” Gerard called. He crept over to his bunk and trembled as he prepared to pull back the curtain. He was so afraid—was it a corpse behind the drapes? Frank mutilated and mangled in this new setting? “Frankie?” Gerard whimpered, opening the curtain and closing his eyes tightly. 

“Hmmm…go back to sleep,” Frank muttered. Gerard’s eyes snapped open and he stared into the bunk. Frank was laying with his face buried in a mess of black hair—Gerard’s hair…

There were two Gerards. 

“Frank?” Gerard sobbed, covering his mouth because he didn’t understand this dream. Because when he sobbed for Frank, the Gerard in bed with him mumbled Frank’s name, too. “No,” Gerard cried. The one in bed mumbled the word as well and snuggled closer to Frank.

“Hush, baby. Sleep.”

“Frank!” Gerard screamed. Not liking the sight of himself and hating the echo—hating the dizziness that came with being in two places at once. “Frank! Frank!” Gerard cried, getting frantic. He wanted to be awake, and he didn’t like this place any better than the room of horrors.

“Shh—Baby, I’m so tired,” Frank moaned, sitting up. “Wake up, sweetheart.” Frank shook the sleeping Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard who stood trapped in a living terror fell down to the floor. 

It was like an earthquake had struck the bus.

“Come on, Gee. You’re dreaming again…” Frank sounded so exhausted. Gerard stared up at him from the floor and felt terrible. How much of a burden was he? “Baby…wake up. Please?”

“Not again,” Mikey moaned from his bunk.

“Gee, come on!” Frank said, getting more forceful. He shook the sleeping Gerard’s shoulder repeatedly, making Gerard’s view of the scene split in half. “This is such bullshit,” Frank muttered under his breath. 

Gerard’s heart sank and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again he was laying at Frank’s side.

“Sorry,” Gerard said immediately, rolling over so his back was to Frank. 

“It’s fine,” Frank said softly, trying to cuddle up with him. Gerard pressed against the bus’s wall and closed his eyes. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Gerard muttered.

“Gee?”

“Go to sleep,” Gerard said quietly. 

“I love you,” Frank mumbled.

“I love you, too,” Gerard answered, sighing quietly and letting Frank cuddle up again. He couldn’t blame Frank for getting frustrated with him—Frank was tired. And, for all he knew, Frank hadn’t even said anything at all.

Gerard laid with his eyes closed in the dark for what felt like hours, but he wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. He opened his eyes and stared at the wall of his bunk for a while, not sure what was real and what was fake when he rolled over and his bunk was empty.

“Frankie?” He mumbled. He told himself that maybe Frank had gone to the bathroom, or maybe Frank had decided to get a drink or something to eat…He waited for several seconds and then he began to notice the sounds coming from above him. 

From…Mikey’s bunk?

It was a creaking noise…repetitive. Annoying. Occasionally mixed with a thump. Familiar? 

After a particularly loud slam, Gerard heard quiet, muffled giggling—Frank’s laugh.

 _Frank’s laugh._ Gerard jolted—repulsed and horrified by the sounds above him. What were they doing?—Frank and his little brother? Making that distinctive, repetitive creak, creak, creaking sound?

Slowly, quietly, Gerard slid out of his bunk—ready, but terrified, to figure out what was going on above him.

The giggling had stopped…and had been replaced by little, stifled moans.

Gerard’s heart skipped a beat as he was forced to realize that his lover was being unfaithful…

This had to be a dream…It had to.

Without thinking, Gerard grabbed the curtain and tore it open. Immediately, he was met with something he didn’t want to see—Mikey overtop Frank, both of them naked, both of them in each other’s arms.

“G-Gerard, it’s…” Frank stared at him, but Mikey was starting to glare.

“What the hell, man!?” Mikey spat. “Get out!” Mikey let go of Frank just long enough to grab the blanket and pull it over Frank—shielding him from a man who had seen him a thousand times before. 

“Frank?” Gerard said, looking to his lover—to the man he’d just been cuddling with…the man he’d jacked off just hours ago.

“Gerard,” Frank said, twisting around under Mikey and picking at the blanket. “It’s just…”

“Cheating?” Gerard cried, feeling the tears well in his eyes. “Cheating with my brother! My little brother!” Gerard screamed. 

“Oh God,” Ray mumbled from his bed. “He found out…”

It was a conspiracy…everyone knew.

“Gerard, it’s just sex—it’s not like when I’m with you.” Gerard stared at Frank and realized that this had to be the dream—he was just bouncing from one horror to another. Because sex in the bunks was forbidden, and they all knew he wasn’t sleeping well…

They wouldn’t have dared to fuck at a time like this…unless they wanted him to find out about them.

“You said I gave you everything,” Gerard whimpered, staring Frank in the eye and feeling his heart break. Dream or not, losing Frank was painful. “You said you loved me!”

“I do,” Frank said pitifully, looking to Mikey who began to nuzzle him. “I love this band—I love all of you.”

“Yeah, but…” Gerard stared at him, tears falling in his despair. “Yeah, but…you’re _dating_ me!”

“Yeah,” Mikey said, “but he’s been sleeping with me since you became a self-centered drunk.”

Gerard stared in silence and then ducked back down into his bunk. There was an intense pain in his chest and he felt like his heart might literally be preparing to burst.

As soon as his head hit his pillow, he began to sob. 

“Oh…God damnit,” Bob seethed, disturbed by the noise. It just made Gerard cry harder. He knew his bandmates didn’t like that he was sleeping with Frank, but he didn’t expect them to turn on him like this. Everyone knew and no one told—his own brother deceived him. He had no trust here—he had no friends…

He just wanted to quit and go home… He was done—finished. Without them he was nothing…and it looked like he didn’t even have his ‘friends’ at all. Like he’d only had a charade of them for years…

He couldn’t stop the tears, not even to question whether this was real or if it were a nightmare. He just let the sobs wrack his body and the tears soak his pillow. He wept until his mind felt fuzzy and his body was buzzing subtly. Cried until he felt a hand run soothingly down his spine.

“Gerard?” Gerard sobbed and arched his back away from the touch. 

“Get away from me,” Gerard moaned—unable to growl.

“Gerard?” Frank was more urgent this time. “What’s wrong?” Gerard didn’t even feel relief when he realized that if Frank was asking what was wrong, then the horror he’d witnessed had just been a dream. He was numb. “Gee? Baby, are you…crying?”

“Leave me alone,” Gerard sobbed. 

“What? Gerard…They’re just bad dreams.” Frank laid his head down on Gerard’s shoulder and sighed. 

“I really don’t think that they are,” Gerard muttered.

“You’re not a murderer,” Frank whispers, nuzzling Gerard’s shoulder soothingly. Gerard whined and pressed his face against his pillow. He didn’t even know how he would begin to describe his new nightmare—how would he tell Frank that he was now, because of a dream, suspicious that he and Mikey were going behind his back?

How could he explain that the latest dream had shown him his murdering self’s motive? There was no way to tell Frank that he would be completely capable of killing him, Mikey, and everyone else if he found him in the arms of another man.

“What happened this time?” Frank asked. Gerard sniffed because it was the worst possible question. He didn’t want to answer, but he wanted to—he didn’t want to cut Frank out, but he already felt so helpless, he couldn’t see how it mattered.

“I went back…and I left the room.” Frank moved to prop himself up as if this new development really interested him.

“What was outside of it?—what happened?” He asked, rubbing Gerard’s shoulder.

“It led in here…” Gerard muttered.

“What?”

“It led…into the bunk room. When I opened to door, it was the doorway to the bunk room…and then I was just on the bus and the room was gone.” Frank was quiet for a moment and kept rubbing Gerard’s shoulder. “When I tried to go to my bed…you were in it already with…with me.”

“Whoa—so you were like…in two places at once? That kind of thing?” Frank really did sound interested, but it didn’t make Gerard feel the least bit safe or confident. 

“Yeah…I was really confused, and when I tried to talk to you the me that was sleeping would just mumble whatever I said. It scared me, so I was trying to get you to wake me up. Did you wake me up?”

“I did wake you up—do you not remember?” Frank asked.

“Did I make you mad?” Gerard asked. “I know you need to sleep…”

“Well…No, I’m not _mad,_ but I’m _tired,_ too. I’m sorry I got so pushy, but everyone was waking up and getting pissed off.” So Frank really had gotten angry—what Gerard had heard while he’d been watching Frank try to wake him was real. “What did you dream this time?” He asked, as if changing the subject.

“Waking up alone.” Frank made an inquisitive noise and Gerard just pressed himself closer to the wall. “Because…because you were in bed with Mikey.”

“With Mikey?” Frank asks, sounding horrified and confused. “No—ew, no. Gerard, yeah, he’s pretty, but he’s not like you. I can’t date you and fuck your brother.”

“Yeah well…he was fucking you,” Gerard mumbled, feeling jealous of a dream—and betrayed by a Frank that didn’t exist. “And everyone knew but me.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Frank said, sounding as disgusted as he said he was. “I’d just be seeing your face the whole time—hoping it was you.” It’s dirty, but to Gerard it sounds romantic. “Do you think that’s why you killed us?”

“Yes,” Gerard admitted. He finally rolled over to look at Frank in the dim light. Frank looked like he was thinking about something.

“I’ll have to remember that the next time Mikey makes a pass at me,” Frank said. “And think to myself—sleeping with this bony, blondish…brother-of-my-boyfriend is going to get me killed.”

“Mikey makes passes?” Gerard asked almost sadly. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, but he had the feeling that his dream was telling him that he was being lied to—by everyone.

“No!” Frank said. “Hell no! If anyone on this bus is straight, it’s Mikey fuckin’ Way.” Gerard didn’t really feel soothed, but he curled onto Frank’s chest regardless. “Are you going to try to get more sleep?” Frank asked, laying flat against the mattress. Gerard shrugged. “Well…if you need me, wake me.” Gerard hummed and nuzzled his lover’s chest.

“Frankie?” Gerard mumbled.

“Yeah?” Frank said, sounding exhausted.

“Don’t leave me because of this…”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Frank said. Gerard just sighed, still haunted by the images of Frank lying in his brother’s arms… “I’m _not_ gonna leave you,” he repeated. 

“…find someone else’s bunk to sleep in, since I’m noisy,” Gerard muttered, not really a whole thought, but a fraction of one.

“No—you’re fine. I don’t want to sleep next to anyone else.” As if to prove his point, Frank held Gerard closer. “Just go to sleep—you’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want to go back to that place,” Gerard whimpered. “It scares me.”

“Just—think of something else. You worry about it so much, that’s why it keeps recurring.” Frank kissed the top of Gerard’s head and nuzzled his hair. “Sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Against his better judgment, Gerard listened to him and closed his eyes.

“Come on! Come on, come on—we gotta go! We gotta go!” Gerard rolled out of his bunk and fell onto the floor, face first. “Oh, Jesus—come on, get up.” Gerard barely had time to move himself before someone started pulling him up by his arms.

“Wh-where are we going?” Gerard stammered, trying to gather his thoughts as he was hauled towards the front of the bus. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“It’s time to go—you’ve gotta get dressed, get your hair and makeup done. What, are you high again?” The person tugging him was Brian, and light was streaming in from the windows of the bus so Gerard could only assume they were at a venue. 

“Where’s…Where’s Frank? Where is everybody?” Gerard fell down the stairs of the bus and landed on his hands and knees on the pavement. The sounds of shrieks and cries filled his ears and he gaped at the crowd standing around him. 

“They’re already inside—Get up! Christ, what is wrong with you today?” Brian was once again pulling him to his feet and dragging him along. Gerard barely had a chance to register the number of screaming fans that were trying to break through a fence to reach him before he was shoved into the dim light of the venue’s back hallway. 

“Where is Frank?” Gerard asked, hoping Brian would say more than just ‘inside.’

“ _In hair and makeup_ where _you’re_ supposed to be,” Brian annunciated. “Now be honest with me.” Brian pushed Gerard up against the wall and Gerard felt like he should be worried. “ _What_ did you take last night, Gerard? Be honest.”

“Nothing,” Gerard said, finally getting the chance to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. 

“Gerard, you slept through everyone trying to wake you up. They’ve been inside for almost an hour!”

“I…had nightmares all night,” Gerard said, looking over his manager’s face. He felt like a child about to get a beating from his parent… “I’m sorry I overslept—didn’t Frank tell you?”

“Frank got his ass of the bus and went to hair and makeup. We’re running behind—now get your ass out of these filthy clothes and put on your costume.”

Gerard was shoved into his dressing room where his costume hung on the far wall. There was a bottle of water on his shelf by the mirror. He grabbed the bottle and drank as much as he could.

Then he needed to take a piss…


	3. Chapter 3

Gerard put his ear to the door of the dressing room and listened for Brian, but it sounded like the coast was clear so he opened the door enough for him to peek out. He looked both ways and let out a sigh of relief. Sneaking away from Brian was one of the most exciting parts of being on tour…finding bathrooms was another.

Hiding from Brian was at least a thrill—Gerard doubted pissing his pants in the middle of the hallway would be anything close to enjoyable. And if he didn’t find the bathroom soon, that was more than likely what was going to end up happening.

He had to ask for directions after opening the wrong door twice, and the stagehand who could barely speak English pointed him in the opposite direction. With a heavy sigh, Gerard hurried down the hallway and practically crashed into the bathroom.

Instead of feeling relief, Gerard’s heart tightened and his stomach twisted into knots.

“Shit—Um, G-Gee, it’s not wh-what it looks like!” Frank, fully dressed in his white button-down shirt with his bullet-proof vest, was straightening himself from the sink and quickly pulling up his black jeans. Behind him was Mikey, staring at him in silence and buckling his belt.

No. This was not happening.

Gerard closed his eyes tightly and held his breath. It was dream—it was a dream. It had to be. It had to be. He was in the bus—he was sleeping in the bus. This was a dream—it had to be.

Please, it had to be!

“G-Gerard, it’s…M-Mikey and me…”

“You said I gave you everything,” Gerard mumbled, flashing back to his countless nightmares. 

“You _do,_ ” Frank said, looking back at Mikey who remained silent, and then took a step towards Gerard. “I-I…It’s just that Mikey—Mikey’s just like you, a-and I _love_ this band! I _love all_ of you guys!”

“But you’re dating me,” Gerard repeated, feeling sick. He bit his lip hard, trying to wake himself from this nightmare. He refused to believe that it was real. He refused!

“Yeah, but he’s sleeping with me,” Mikey said. “Isn’t _that_ a thrill?” Mikey shouldered past both of them and walked down the hallway towards the dressing rooms.

“Gerard, I—”

“Save it,” Gerard said, closing his eyes tightly and sinking down to the floor. He refused to open them until this ridiculous dream was over.

“Gerard?” 

“I said save it!” Gerard screamed opening his eyes and blinking in confusion. Now it was dark.

“Save _what?_ ” Frank asked. “Gee, we’re at the venue. If you don’t get up, Brian’s going to beat you or something. He’s _pissed._ ”

“Where’s Mikey?” Gerard asked, sitting up quickly and smacking his head into the ceiling of his bunk. “Ouch—fuck!”

“I’m putting my pants on!” Mikey growled. “I already got my ass chewed—now it’s your turn. Why the fuck did we have to get signed? I liked it better when were on our own! I fucking hate this!” When Mikey had his belt buckled around his waist, he stormed out of the bunk room. Gerard heard someone mumbled and then Mikey’s voice exploded. “Fuck off!”

“Come on,” Frank said urgently. “Everyone’s going nuts. Ray took your outfit into the building already. Hurry, before Brian snaps.”

Gerard staggered onto his feet and forced on his Converse shoes. When he stopped to tie them, Frank pulled him up by his arm with a grip that hurt. 

“We don’t have time, Babe,” Frank said. “Come on—come on.”

“Frankie?” Gerard asked.

“What, Baby?—What? We don’t have time—we gotta go.”

“Gerard! Frank! Now! Move your asses!” Brian called from the front of the bus.

“Come on,” Frank said, starting to cower. The show wouldn’t go well if Frank’s enthusiasm was robbed by their manager. “Or he really will attack you…”

Gerard allowed himself to be led out of the bus by his hand, but Frank’s grip immediately dropped before they set foot in front of the fans. Brian followed closely behind them, pushing them by the shoulders if they walked too slowly past the screaming fans.

“Get your asses in your rooms and get ready. You’ve got less than an hour before sound check and then you’re live.”

Brian shoved Gerard into a dressing room that looked nothing like the one from his dream, but continued to push Frank down the hall before Gerard got a chance to ask him…

Ask him what it meant to have two separate dreams in which his lover was fucking his brother.

There were three water bottles in his dressing room this time, but they were set on a dresser on the opposite side of the room from the mirror. And before he got the chance to feel the need to use the bathroom, there was a sharp knock on his open door and a woman came hopping in.

“Okay—time to get dressed! I’m Taffy—I’m here to get your hair ready.”

“Taffy?” Gerard repeated. That was a name too weird for his brain to invent.

“ _Daphne._ Daphne, not Taffy—you’re funny.” The woman started laughing and then started stripping off Gerard’s shirt.

“Hey—hey, no—no, I got it. I got it.” Gerard wasn’t exactly shy, but having a woman he didn’t know undressing him like a child made him uncomfortable. Especially since the part of his night where Frank jerked him off was proving itself to be real as he became aware of the traces of slime and stiffness in his boxers.

“Okay, but come on. I’ve got, like, half an hour to get you ready,” Taffy—who cared what her name was, really?—said, sighing in annoyance. Gerard narrowed his eyes at her until she rolled her eyes and left the room. She just wanted to see him naked…fuckin’ pervert.

Gerard quickly pulled off his shoes and started getting undressed. He glanced at himself in the mirror as he changed into his costume and noticed a mess of bruises across his back and arms. Obviously, he had thrashed quite a bit in his sleep.

He barely had time to tuck himself into his too-tight jeans before Taffy burst back in and ordered him to sit down in the makeup chair. He really did want to file a complaint with someone after the girl deliberately dipped her hand between his legs, but he was desperate to keep his and Frank’s relationship a secret and complaining about a woman sexually harassing him wasn’t going to keep his sexuality a secret. It wasn’t that he was ashamed—he just didn’t want Frank to be attacked by the press. He was only nineteen…he couldn’t even take Brian’s attacks yet.

“ _Gerard,_ ” someone drawled in the voice of a toddler. Gerard turned to look at the door despite the protests from Taffy who was trying to line his eyes even though he could do it himself. Mikey swung in with one hand over his face. “My assistant broke my glasses—How am I supposed to play bass blind?”

Gerard sighed heavily and let Taffy continue poking him in the eyes. This was the insanity he was used to—not the bad dreams about death and adultery. 

“I brought your spares from home,” Gerard said, trying to keep his eyes still as he spoke. “They’re in my suitcase back on the bus.”

“Okay,” Mikey whined. “How am I going to find them when I’m _blind?_ ” He sounded like he wanted to start crying and Gerard felt bad for him. Dreams or no dreams, this was his little brother and their job was hard. Mikey was still just a kid, too, in Gerard’s eyes. 

“Ask Brian to help you. I’m already about to get my ass kicked by him _and_ Taffy,” Gerard mumbled.

“Brian’s already—who the fuck is Taffy?”

“ _Daphne,_ ” the woman said. “ _Daphne._ ”

“Then ask Ray,” Gerard suggested. “I can’t help.” Mikey mumbled and left the room after closing the door quietly behind him. 

Gerard let Taffy finish making him look even more sleep-deprived than he already was and was finally allowed out of the confines of the dressing room to take a piss. He opened the door of the bathroom slowly and sighed in relief when he found it empty. 

He stepped into the stall to piss, avoiding the urinal in case some strange fan managed to sneak in and steal a photo of him. Just as he got his pants low enough to relieve himself, he heard someone else walk in the room.

“No, Frank—I’ve told you before I don’t want to,” Mikey said. 

“Mikey, no one would even have to know.” Gerard’s stomach tightened as he recognized Frank’s voice. 

“ _Hello!_ My _glasses_ would be gone! Everyone with _eyes_ would know!” Gerard sighed in relief and finally relaxed enough to relieve himself.

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have to cry about your glasses getting broken,” Frank said. 

“I wasn’t _crying!_ But I wouldn’t be surprised if I did—they’re my eyes! If I can’t see, I can’t play! What’s the point of putting myself through this hell if I can’t even play?” Mikey did sound close to tears and Gerard quickly squeezed back into his jeans and flushed the toilet. 

“Mike?” Gerard asked, coming out of the stall slowly.

“Gerard, why do you always go in the stall?” Mikey asked, shaking his head and leaving the bathroom quickly. 

“Is he okay?” Gerard asked. Frank shrugged and started washing his hands. 

“You’d better get on stage and get wired up. Brian’s about to beat you.”

“Why?” Gerard snapped, nudging Frank aside so he could wash his hands in the only sink in the bathroom. “It’s not my fault we’re late.”

“I know, Baby,” Frank said, wiping his hands on his pants to dry them. “You look so hot in your costume,” he moaned into Gerard’s ear. Gerard stiffened and tried to decide whether to feel concerned or giddy. “What do you say after we’re done, I break into your dressing room and ravage you like one of our lovesick fans?”

“I-I’d…Oh, God,” Gerard stuttered. He closed his eyes tightly, but instead of seeing images of himself with Frank, he kept seeing Frank underneath his brother—bent over the sink. “Frank, you love me, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” Frank said, backing a step away and letting the seduction leave his voice. “Did I do something?”

“No...” Gerard mumbled. “It’s just…you and Mikey…”

“That dream? Gerard, I told you that I love you and that Mikey is _straight._ ”

“I had another one,” Gerard mumbled. “Wh-where…you guys were in the bathroom—”

“Gerard, I love you!” Frank said, looking like he might start to cry. The tour was taking its toll on everyone, and the last thing Gerard wanted was to drag Frank down even more.

“I know,” Gerard whispered. “But…you love all of us.”

“Yeah, but not like that,” Frank muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not a _whore._ ”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Gerard said quickly, grabbing for Frank’s hands in order to hold them. “These dreams are just really getting to me…”

“Well, at least the dead bodies are gone,” Frank said, pulling his hands away and retreating towards the bathroom door. “I have to go finish setting up. I’m sorry.”

Gerard dried his hands on his jeans and walked back to his dressing room. He looked at himself in the mirror, put on more eyeliner and scrawled a few words on the inside of his wrist before creeping out of the room towards the stage. 

As he set up, Frank refused to look at him, and as the show started it was more difficult than ever to force energy and life into his words. When he started singing _Helena_ he felt like he might cry, but his sadness became numbness after the intermission and Frank gave him a sweat-drenched hug. There was no eye contact and Gerard felt like he’d ruined something.

If anything was going to drive Frank into another man’s arms, it was this…

Gerard stripped out of his soaking-wet clothes alone after the show, and Frank never came even though he moved slowly. He wanted Frank to come to him, but filled with self-loathing when his boyfriend never arrived. 

“Get your ass on the bus, Gerard!” Brian screamed from the other side of the door. Gerard pulled his old clothes back on and put his sweat-soaked uniform back on the hanger. He crept out of the venue and onto the bus. Everyone was sitting on the couch except for Mikey.

“Where—”

“He needs his space,” Ray said. Gerard bit his lip and sat down on the floor by Frank’s feet, his costume and his bag of cosmetics still in his hands.

“Well…I’m his brother,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Leave him alone,” Frank muttered, looking out the window as the bus began to move. Gerard stared at him, hurt and feeling cut off. It was like no one wanted to talk to him, and he hadn’t even done anything to Ray or Bob. Even they wouldn’t look at him. It was like they wanted him to go crazy…

“I’m…I’m going to check on him,” Gerard said, looking at them with hurt and making his way to the back of the bus. He stopped outside of the bunkroom and listened through the drawn curtain that did nothing to muffle sound…

All Gerard could hear was muffled music being played too loudly through headphones. Slowly, Gerard pulled open the curtain and stepped inside. 

Mikey was lying in his bunk, staring at the ceiling of his little bed cubby with a blank expression. Gerard had been preparing himself for anger or tears or mass hysteria, but it was just plain, old Mikey. It was obvious that he was stressed to the breaking point, but he hadn’t snapped yet and Gerard was determined to keep it that way.

“What do you want?” Mikey asked, pausing his music when Gerard drew the curtain and sat down on the floor. 

“It’s been a bad week,” Gerard said quietly. The rest of the guys may not have known how to deal with Mikey, but Gerard did. They were family—they’d been together their entire lives.

“No shit,” Mikey muttered, taking off his headphones and tossing them aside. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Gerard said quietly. “I made Frank mad at me.”

“I can’t handle your emotional shit right now,” Mikey said, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t unload your baggage on me. I’ve got enough of my own.”

“I’m not,” Gerard said calmly. “I just…I mean, we haven’t talked in forever. Not without, you know, cameras or the guys in our faces.”

“What’s to say? I’m tired—you’re tired. Our sound sucks, and I’m sick of playing these songs—and I don’t want to learn any more songs, and I’m done.” He didn’t mean he was done with the band. Gerard could tell by the instant look of regret that overcame Mikey’s face once the words were out.

“We’ll take it slow on the new album,” Gerard said quietly. “I don’t…I don’t want to push it. If we push too hard, we’ll just burn ourselves out and I’ll end up drinking myself to death again.”

“Me too,” Mikey said quietly. He looked terrified, and Gerard felt bad for him. Maybe if he did have someone like Frank to lean on, he’d be a little less worse for wear.

Gerard folded his knees up to his chest and rested his head against them.

“What happened with Frank?” Mikey asked after a long pause.

“I keep having the bad dreams. He’s sick of hearing about them, but…”

“They scare you. I get it—I have them too, sometimes. Probably not as bad, but they’re still scary. I dream, like…I’m on stage and all of a sudden it catches on fire and no one can get out. Or that something falls from the rafters and stabs one of us through the guts. They’re awful.”

“How do you cope with them?” Gerard asked.

“I wake up, remind myself that they’re just dreams, and go back to sleep,” Mikey said matter-of-factly. 

“In my dreams, I can’t tell if I’m awake or not,” Gerard said. “They all blur together and they keep happening more and more.”

“Are they still about us dying?” Mikey asked.

“No,” Gerard said, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and regretting what he was about to say. “They’re about…you and Frank going behind my back.”

“Well…I mean…”

Gerard lifted his head slowly.

“You know,” Mikey said, shrugging and staring at the ceiling of his bunk. “It’s only been for the last couple of months. He said he was bored.”

“What?” Gerard asked, shaking his head and trying to wake himself up. It was another fucking dream. It had to be. It had to! He couldn’t take it.

“Dude, relax,” Mikey said, looking at Gerard as if confused by his reaction. 

“I said we’ve only been fucking for the last few months—it hasn’t been the _whole_ time.”

“That’s not…that’s not true,” Gerard said, swallowing hard against the nausea building in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in days—there was no way he could vomit.

“Gerard—he _loves_ me.”

“Shut up!” Gerard snapped, standing up from the floor and pounding his fists against the side of his head. This was a dream. He _knew_ it was a dream.

“Gerard, what the hell are you doing?”

Suddenly, there were hands grabbing at his wrists and pulling at his arms. He was afraid whoever had a hold of him was going to try pulling him apart.

“Let go!” He snapped, looking up and staring Mikey straight in the face. Why did he look so confused? What was happening? “Let me go!” Mikey released him, but there was still someone else holding on to his other arm.

It was Frank.

“What’s going on?” Frank asked. He, too, looked confused and mortified. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Mikey answered. “I told him not to worry about these bad dreams and that everyone gets them—and that you care about him—and he just started freaking out! Put him on the couch—put him to bed! He’s going crazy.”

“That’s _not_ what you said!” Gerard cried, pulling against Frank’s grip and trembling when he realized how _real_ it all felt. His head still hurt from the blows he’d given it, his body was shaking with exhaustion and there was no way he was able to feel so genuinely tired in his _sleep._

“Gerard—I told you that you guys have been fucking like crazy for the last two months and that you need to stop worrying that someone’s going to take him from you! Who the fuck’s going to take him? We’re all straight and we’re not _that_ bored, and we don’t have time for groupies. What do you _think_ I said?”

No…No, Gerard didn’t want to believe it. He let Frank wrap him up in his arms and stared at Mikey who looked dangerously close to breaking. It wasn’t just nightmares now. He didn’t even need to be asleep to have the dreams.

“Frank, I’m scared,” Gerard whimpered. “I don’t think I can do this—I’m so tired.” He wanted to apologize to Mikey, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d come back here to comfort him, but all he did was make it worse. “I didn’t mean to—I…I’m exhausted. What’s going to happen to me?”

“Hush,” Frank said, still drained from the show. “Just…Gerard, just go to bed. At least try to sleep. If you have nightmares, you have nightmares. Fight them. You _know_ you’re dreaming—make something else happen. For God’s sake, if you dream that I’m fucking Mikey then fucking join in—I can’t take this. You’re wearing us out—go to _bed._ ”

Gerard didn’t get a chance to say that he would rather see everyone dead in his dreams than dream that he was sleeping with his own brother. Frank had no less than pushed him into his bunk and drew the curtain on it so he was left alone in the darkness. He waited for over an hour, but Frank never joined him. Not even when everyone else had gone to sleep.

Holding his pillow at his side like it was a person, Gerard closed his eyes and prepared to fall asleep. He stared at the darkness behind his eyelids and tried to breathe evenly. He was scared, but he was ready for this. He was tired, and he wasn’t going to let some upset in brain chemistry tear his life apart.

“Get up.”

Gerard rolled over slowly when the light over his bunk suddenly came on. 

“Frank?” Gerard asked softly. The bunk was empty and his curtain was still drawn. There was no one there to have switched on the light…

“Get up,” the voice came again.

Gerard whimpered softly, and hit his overhead light to turn it back off. 

It was a dream. It was just another disgusting dream. If he got up, he’d find Frank and Mikey fucking—or all of his bandmates dead. He was _not_ getting up.

Gerard closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep despite the anxiety rising in his chest. He could feel the tension, just like he could hear the sounds of breath ghosting over his ear. He was not alone in this bunk, but he couldn’t see who was there.

“Come on, Gerard—while they’re still asleep.”

Gerard slammed into the wall of his bunk and threw on the overhead light. Mikey was now in bed next to him.

“No,” Gerard moaned, pushing back against the wall when the image of his brother crawled towards him. He knew it wasn’t really Mikey—Mikey wouldn’t be wearing his band getup to bed. He wouldn’t have his hair straightened and styled, and he wouldn’t have his glasses on to get into bed.

“Come on, big brother,” Mikey said, grabbing Gerard’s hand and placing it on his chest. He slowly started pulling it downward towards his stomach and Gerard frantically tried to get his hand away.

“Mikey, no,” Gerard whispered.

“It’s either you or Frank, big brother—what’s it gonna be?”

“This is wrong!” Gerard whispered harshly.

“Shh, big brother. I’ll be gone in a few minutes anyway, right?” Mikey said. He fixed Gerard with a sad, lopsided smile and rested his head against the pillow.

“Mikey, what are you—”

Gerard gagged when he noticed his bunk was filling with blood. Mikey’s blood.

He pulled his hand away from Mikey’s stomach only to find a knife in his hand.

“No!” Gerard cried, tossing the knife toward the foot of his bunk and covering his face with his hands. “Mikey, why?”

“Just gotta…show you,” Mikey said, his voice fading out as he bled out beside his brother.

“Show me what?” Gerard asked, sobbing. “What, Mikey?”

“What it feels like,” Mikey said, sighing heavily.

Gerard opened his eyes and saw Mikey staring back at him, his eyes cloudy and unfocused.

“What what feels like?” Gerard asked.

“Loving you,” Mikey said softly.

“Me?” Gerard asked, swallowing hard and looking at the blood which soaked his clothes.

“Feels like dying,” Mikey whispered, his body going still. His eyes stayed open but became lifeless. 

Gerard wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He knew this was a dream, but that didn’t make it any less awful. He was sleeping now, so he couldn’t scream and wake himself up. He needed rest, the band needed rest, and even though it was scary he was determined to stay quiet.

But he couldn’t keep from crying. Until he would wake up, Mikey’s dead body would by lying next to him in bed. It felt like he was literally being drowned in the blood. The blood was in his blankets and his clothes, hot at first, but quickly turning cold. 

Gerard cried quietly, staring at Mikey’s body and eventually reaching out to hold his lifeless hand. It was horrible—even if he knew it was a dream.

He felt so bad for getting mad at Mikey before; he didn’t want him dead. 

“I love you,” Gerard whispered, knowing Mikey couldn’t hear him. “I love you so much,” he cried. Mikey didn’t respond, and that just served as a reminder to him that life was fragile. This was a _real_ thing. Mikey could die any day, just like this…just like this.

Gerard sobbed and pulled Mikey’s lifeless body to his chest. It was starting to go rigid and it made Gerard nauseous. 

“Mikey,” he whispered. “Mikey, I love you—I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Gerard closed his eyes tightly and pressed his head against his brother’s still, silent chest. It was so wrong to hear nothing but hollowness—no heartbeat, no circulation…

“I’m sorry,” Gerard cried, knowing that his words wouldn’t help.

He loved his brother. He didn’t want him dead, and he was sorry his love was so hard on everyone else. 

Gerard nuzzled his brother’s chest and kept his eyes shut tight. He tried to sleep—or to just _feel_ asleep—but the sensation never came.

“Everybody up!” Someone shouted. 

Gerard sobbed and clung tighter to Mikey’s body which slowly grew warmer and warmer. The sheets, however, were still moist with blood. Or at least Gerard presumed.

“Mmm—good job sleeping through the night,” came a voice beside Gerard in the bed.

Gerard’s eyes snapped open and lit upon Frank who was lying sleepily beside him, wrapped in his arms. 

“Frank?” Gerard said nervously, not sure if this was real or if he was dreaming. 

“Hm, Baby?” Frank muttered, opening his eyes slowly.

“Get up!” Ray called from just outside the bunks. “Come on, guys—we gotta go!”

“Mn, better listen to him,” Frank said with a heavy sigh. “You were great last night, by the way,” he added with a wicked smirk. Gerard stared at him, wide-eyed and frightened. He backed into the wall and looked at the sheets. Where they had once been damp, they were now crusted and dry.

“What…what happened last night?” Gerard asked.

“Um…Are you okay?” Frank asked, sitting up as much as the low bunk would allow. He fixed Gerard with a curious gaze, but Gerard just looked away. His memory had lapsed, and there was no fixing it. It would be better if he just played along and acted like he remembered what it was like to break the no-sex-in-the-bunk rules again.

“It’s nothing,” Gerard whispered, slowly sliding past Frank and out of his bunk after making sure his pants were zipped.

When he stood in the aisle way, Mikey slowly slid out of his bunk looking tired and irritated. 

“So who fucked in your dream last night?” Mikey asked absently. “I’m so tired…”

“You died,” Gerard said quietly, staring at the floor. 

“Again?” Mikey asked, hardly sounding interested.

“You said that loving me is like…dying.” Gerard looked around for a clean shirt to wear, but couldn’t find one.

“It is,” Mikey said. “You wear me out.”

“Mikey, that’s mean,” Frank said, sliding out of the bunk and helping search for clean (or cleaner) clothes. “Don’t listen to him—just get dressed. We’re stopping at a restaurant for some lunch. Some good food?”

“I’m not hungry,” Gerard mumbled.

“Gerard…” 

“I didn’t sleep with you last night,” Gerard whispered, grabbing Frank’s wrist and pulling him close. Mikey looked at them out of the corner of his eye and then left the bunk room quickly.

“What are you talking about?” Frank said, scowling at him and pulling his arm away. “Yes you did—you gave me a blowjob and everything.”

“No I didn’t!” Gerard said. “Frank, I went right to sleep—I had a nightmare. I _couldn’t_ have slept with you. If I did, I wasn’t _awake._ ”

“Um, you were definitely awake if you were blowing me, Babe,” Frank said, looking at Gerard with little amusement. “This isn’t funny, Gerard. You need to quit telling people you’re having nightmares when you’re _not._ ”

Gerard backed away and leaned against the row of bunks. 

This was the dream, wasn’t it? This _had_ to be. He hadn’t slept with Frank, he’d had a nightmare—he’d dreamt Mikey was dead and lying next to him in the bed.

Unless… Unless the voice he’d heard when he’d been trying to sleep, the voice that told him to ‘get up’ right before his bunk light turned on had actually been Frank. Maybe Frank had come to him and Gerard just…blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4

“I _do_ have the nightmares,” Gerard whispered. “I _do…_ ”

“Gerard, you gave me like…the best head of my life. You _weren’t_ asleep.” Frank didn’t look angry, he looked scared. The weight of it was crushing him, and though he knew he couldn’t shake free of it, he was still in denial. “I would’ve _known_ if you weren’t awake,” Frank snapped. 

“I…I kind of remembered you turning on the light,” Gerard said. He didn’t want to make Frank any more upset. They had places to be and didn’t have time for a long discussion. 

“That’s it?” Frank said, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. 

“I’m sorry,” Gerard said, walking quickly past Frank and going to the front of the bus. He hurried past Brian, but didn’t manage to escape.

“No—No, Mikey told me someone needed to talk to you. So you’re gonna come talk to me.”

Frank came to the front of the bus and looked at Gerard almost bitterly before hurrying down the steps and running toward the rest of the band who were standing at the door of a restaurant.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gerard said. “I just…I want to get some food. I’m hungry.”

“We’ll get you some food,” Brian said, “but we’re eating on the bus and you’re gonna talk to me.”

Gerard wanted to scream—or punch someone, or cry—he was going crazy and he just wanted left alone in the madness. He’d dreamt his brother tried to sleep with him and that he’d stabbed him—and that his brother’s dying words were to say loving him felt like death—and that whole time he’d been giving Frank a blow job…

What could Brian possibly say that would make it all better?

“If you wanna help me, put a bullet through my head,” Gerard snapped. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He tried to walk away, but Brian just grabbed his arm again and looked at him sternly.

“Saying things like _that_ is why we need to have a talk. Mikey’s getting you some lunch—”

“He doesn’t know what I like,” Gerard said, even though Mikey probably knew him better than he knew himself.

“—so just tell me what’s been happening. Ray said something about bad dreams.”

“What the hell does Ray know?” Gerard snapped, retreating back into the bus. Brian followed him closely and Gerard started to tremble. He felt cornered…desperate. He didn’t know why talking to Brian scared him. Maybe it was because an outsider would see just how crazy he’d really become.

Maybe it was because Brian would just remind him that he was being pathetic and needed to get his act together before he ruined the band.

“Gerard, you gotta tell me what’s going on. If you need to cancel a couple of shows, we’ll cancel a couple of shows. If you need a hotel, we’ll get a hotel. You need to open up.”

“They’re just nightmares,” Gerard whispered. “There’s nothing else to say.”

“If it was just nightmares, your band wouldn’t be coming to me begging me to help you,” Brian said. He made Gerard sit down on the couch and stood in front of him like an animal staring down its prey. 

“Call for a fuckin’ shrink,” Gerard muttered. “I’m fuckin’ crazy.”

“Because you have nightmares?”

“Because I don’t know where I am anymore!” Gerard cried. “I dreamt Mikey was fucking Frank and…that Mikey was trying to fuck _me_ and…that I killed everyone—and they just never stop! It _never_ stops!”

“Okay,” Brian said, his tone less condescending than Gerard had anticipated. 

Now Gerard expected him to say ‘everyone’s been fucking Frank. Don’t you know that by now?’

“I don’t even know when I’m dreaming anymore—I don’t even know if I’m awake now.” Gerard looked down at his hands as if they somehow held the key… The only powers his hands had were the ability to end it all. They could slit his wrists, tie a noose around his neck, poison his coffee…

“Well, you’re awake,” Brian said. “And I think you know that Frank’s not cheating—”

“That doesn’t help the dreams,” Gerard spat. 

“What do you think would help?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard whispered, turning away. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted Brian to keep the guys in the restaurant while he slept so no one touched him and he would know that it was fake…

“Look… After tonight’s show, we can get a hotel. We can get you your own room, you can get some alone time to de-stress, and maybe sleeping in an actual bed will help.”

“Maybe,” Gerard whispered. He hated the idea of sleeping alone. He wanted Frank to be there because hotel nights were a rare luxury and Frank deserved attention… Who knew where he would turn if he couldn’t get it. “I don’t know… I wouldn’t mind having Frank with me.”

“Look, if you’re having nightmares where you’re killing people, and you don’t know when you’re awake and when you’re asleep, it might be better if you were on your own,” Brian said. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Gerard said, looking away at the floor. He felt the tears rush him when it sank in that his own manager believed he was capable of murdering his best friends. 

“I need you to be straight with me,” Brian said, shrugging casually. “Have you been drinking anything or taking anything that could cause this?”

“No!” Gerard cried, looking at Brian bitterly. “If it were that simple, don’t you think I would’ve stopped it?”

“Okay, okay—you know I have to ask.”

Mikey stepped up into the bus, holding a Styrofoam to-go box with a matching Styrofoam cup.

“Frank’s in the bathroom freaking out,” Mikey said to Brian as he handed Gerard the box and cup. “He said something about running away.”

“Goddamnit,” Brian said. “Gerard, I’ll be back—”

“I want to go check on him, too!” Gerard said, setting the food and drink aside. “He’s _my_ boyfriend.”

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Mikey said. He looked at Gerard sympathetically and it made his stomach lurch.

“Did I do something?” He asked. “I was _asleep!_ ”

“He’s fine,” Mikey said. “He’s just…”

Brian left the bus, leaving Gerard alone with the brother he’d dreamt he killed.

“I really don’t remember,” Gerard said.

“You um… You scratched him,” Mikey said. “I don’t know with what…”

“I _didn’t_ scratch him,” Gerard whispered. “I was sleeping… I wasn’t awake.”

“I know,” Mikey said. “It’s not bad. He’s just stressed out. He’ll be fine.” Mikey sat down next to Gerard on the couch and crossed his legs. “I got you a veggie burger and fries. Their barbecue sauce is good.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, slowly opening the lid of the to-go box. He didn’t feel like eating anymore, but he was afraid that if he didn’t Mikey would get upset. There was also the lingering fear, however, that there wasn’t going to be food in the box. Maybe there’d be a severed hand or eyes or something…

But when the lid popped open, there was just a messy burger and fries inside. 

“Are you sure Frank isn’t hurt bad?” Gerard asked, picking up a fry and forcing himself to take a bite. The feel of the food in his mouth made him sick and he almost started to gag.

“He’s fine. It’s a scratch—I saw it.”

“Where is he hurt?” Gerard asked.

“He’s hardly hurt. If it didn’t hurt when he got it and he’s only noticing it now, then it can’t be that bad. Right?”

“I guess,” Gerard whispered. He ate a couple more fries and then lifted the burger to his mouth. 

“He only freaked out because he thought you scratched him to make him stop touching you last night,” Mikey said casually before stealing one of the fries from Gerard’s box. “He’ll get over it.”

“I need to talk to him,” Gerard said, not making any movements to get up from the couch. He focused his energy on eating, trying to relish the moment so he would know if it went from reality to a dream. 

“Let Brian calm him down first. We’re definitely getting a hotel tonight. I’m psyched.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Gerard whispered, setting his burger back down in the box. “I want to sleep in the same room with Frank, but I think Brian’s right. I shouldn’t sleep next to someone I dream I about killing.”

Gerard felt tears well in his eyes and he did his best to fight them. He didn’t want to be found crying over a mediocre burger with his brother slowly stealing all of his fries.

“Frank doesn’t want to sleep with you tonight,” Mikey said. “He’s afraid you won’t remember it in the morning.”

“It’s not my fault!” Gerard cried, starting to sob. “How did he not know I was asleep?”

“What if…you’re not actually asleep?” Mikey asked. “What if you’re just hallucinating things?”

“I swear he didn’t come to me last night,” Gerard cried. “I know the light came on and then…I saw you and all that happened. I don’t even remember anything about Frank being there. What if _he_ dreamt it?”

“I don’t know,” Mikey said. “I didn’t hear anything if he was getting off, so he might’ve been the one having vivid dreams this time.”

“Mikey, I’m afraid it’s never going to stop,” Gerard said, sobbing and covering his face with his hands.

“I think that if you get a good night’s sleep, you won’t be so exhausted that your mind starts to go in the middle of the day,” Mikey said. “And if you don’t have Frank coming around and waking you up half way, you won’t get so confused. You’ll get all the sleep you need.”

“I’m afraid to sleep alone,” Gerard whispered, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. 

Just as Mikey was about to reply, Brian stepped back onto the bus and told him to go finish his lunch. Mikey nodded and stood up from the couch. He walked past Gerard, stealing one last fry as he did, and then left the bus. 

“Okay, so Frank’s fine,” Brian said, sitting down on the floor across from Gerard. “He’s eating some veggie burger and he agrees that it would be a good idea for us to stay in the hotel tonight.”

“I don’t want to cancel any shows over this,” Gerard said. “I can sing—people are counting on me. If we start cutting shows and letting people down, I’m not going to be able to sleep at night.”

“We have five days before the next show. Alright? We were scheduled for a hotel the night before we arrive at the venue, but we can cancel that and get a hotel for tonight and tomorrow, and we won’t be behind.”

“Okay,” Gerard mumbled. “That…won’t be too bad.”

“And if you find that you’re not feeling any better, it won’t be the end of the world if we cancel a show or two.” Brian stared at Gerard until he looked him in the eyes. “Alright? If you push yourself too hard and have some kind of a break down, we’re going to upset a lot more than just a few hundred kids with tickets to a concert.” 

“You’re right,” Gerard said. “I just wish I could stay with Frank tonight…even though I know it’s not a good idea.”

“Give it some time. It’s not the end of the world, Gerard,” Brian said, keeping his voice calm. “Frank understands that you need some rest.”

“I just feel safer with him around. I’m not…used to being alone, you know? On tour the guys are all right there if anything happens.” Gerard picked at his food again and hoped that he didn’t sound too pathetic. Even if Brian had seen him at his overall worst, drunk and drugged out of his mind, Gerard didn’t like to look weak.

“The guys will all have rooms near you. We just want to give you the opportunity to sleep in a room on your own, but if it gets to be too much then I’m sure you can go to sleep in Frank’s room.”

“I hope,” Gerard whispered. “I don’t want him to be mad at me because of this.”

“Frank is not going to be mad at you,” Brian said. “No one is mad at you for having bad dreams. It’s not your fault that this is happening. It’s just an embodiment of all your stress from touring. I’m _sure_ that a night or two to rest will help make it go away.”

“I hope,” Gerard repeated. “I’d give anything to make this stop. I dreamt I killed my _brother_ last night. _Mikey._ It’s awful…”

“There’s not much I can tell you,” Brian said. “We’ll try getting you some extra rest and see if that helps. We can always take you to a hospital or something if it gets even worse. The label offers counseling while you’re on tour if you really need it—”

“I don’t need counseling,” Gerard mumbled. 

“That’s fine,” Brian said. “I just thought I’d let you know what your options are. We’ll finish lunch here and then head over to the hotel. There’s one about an hour from here that has openings. Once we get there you should try to get some sleep. I’ll bring you guys dinner so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“It sounds nice,” Gerard said softly. “I…I could sleep now.” He didn’t really feel that tired, but the thought of a large bed with room to stretch out and roll over sounded incredible. Even if he didn’t sleep, lying down and stretching would be a relief. 

When Frank and the rest of the band members came back onto the bus, Gerard found it hard to look at them. He kept his head bowed as his bandmates rushed past him to go back and lie down in the bunks. Gerard wished there was some way he could apologizes for the trouble he was causing. He never wanted Frank to feel hurt, and yet Frank was the one who looked closed to tears as he went back to the bunk room to hide. 

During the ride to the hotel, Gerard was spoken to by no one. Mikey sat near him during the last half hour of the trip, but he didn’t say anything. His presence was comforting, but Gerard was constantly afraid that Mikey would morph into someone else or say something terrifying. 

However, when they arrived at the hotel, everything remained normal. Mikey offered to help Gerard carry his luggage into the hotel where Brian and a few of their techs were waiting, but Gerard wanted to carry his own weight. He felt like he’d been enough trouble already and he was sick of being a burden to everyone around.

As everyone was filing into the rooms that Brian had procured for them, Gerard stayed close to Frank’s side, wanting to offer his lover any comfort that he could. Frank had panicked earlier and no one would let him see Frank to help. Now, Frank seemed uncomfortable and the more Gerard tried to touch him, the more Frank withdrew. 

Frank room in the hotel shared a wall with Gerard’s, and as they stood outside Frank’s door, Gerard felt his stomach sink. Frank wasn’t looking at him, and Gerard was afraid he’d done something to hurt Frank. The last thing he wanted was for Frank to feel responsible for anything that was happening.

“I love you,” Gerard whispered, so frightened that Frank would say nothing in return.

“I love you, too,” Frank said, looking up at Gerard sadly. “If you need anything, I’m right next door, okay? If you need me to come over for anything, just knock on my door or hit the wall or something. I don’t want you to feel alone.”

“I’ll be okay,” Gerard mumbled. “I just need some sleep and this will all stop.” It was wishful thinking and even Frank seemed to notice that Gerard felt hopeless.

“If you start yelling in your sleep, do you want me to come over and wake you up? I know you need sleep but…” Frank trailed off and looked down and the green and blue speckled carpet of the hotel hallway.

“It’d probably be better if you did. I don’t want us to get kicked out because of me screaming,” Gerard said. He opened the door to his hotel room with his keycard and then handed the piece of plastic to Frank. “You can let yourself in. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Frank said, quickly leaning up to get a kiss before going into his own hotel room. Gerard sighed and stepped into his dim hotel room. The curtains were already drawn over the windows, blocking out the light. When the door closed behind him, Gerard felt like he was being locked into a tomb. 

He set his suitcase down beside the nightstand and slowly sat down on the bed, stripping off his shoes and then his shirt. After taking off his jeans and socks, Gerard crawled between the cold, stiff sheets of the hotel bed. He nestled down against the cool pillow and stared at the wall. 

The room slowly, slowly grew darker and his eyes slipped closed. It was quiet and peaceful, the only sound being the hum coming from the air vent by the covered window. After a while, there came a slow pattering—a sound like rain hitting the window and Gerard rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head in an attempt to block out the noise. 

The sound of rain became louder and louder until Gerard cracked open his eyes. Immediately, he pulled back and nearly fell out of his bed. Outside his window was a dark silhouette of a person, even though his room was on the third floor of the hotel. 

“It’s a dream,” Gerard whispered to himself, pulling the blankets back over his head and rolling so his back faced the window and the dark silhouette. “Just a dream,” he repeated when the rain pounded against the glass. He was frightened that it wasn’t rain—he feared it was blood spilling against the glass.

Once the thought was in his head, he heard a low splashing sound start behind him. The sound of something pouring down the glass onto the floor. 

“Just a dream,” Gerard said, covering his ears with his hands beneath the blankets. The sound was stifled, but Gerard was ready for it to start over at any second. It was in his head, and covering his ears should do nothing but lock it in…

What if it was real?

“A _dream,_ ” Gerard pleaded. “A dream, a dream. It’s just a dream… _Please,_ it’s just a dream…” 

He lie in the bed, waiting for the pattering and splatting to stop. Gerard knew he was asleep and that it was all in his head, but that didn’t make it any better. It felt real—it sounded so real. He didn’t know for _certain_ if he was asleep or not. What if there really was someone outside his window? What if someone was spilling gasoline into his room and prepared to set it on fire?

Whimpering, Gerard made himself get out of the bed and approach the window. The silhouette was still there, as were the sounds of spilling and rain. 

Gerard stood quietly in front of the window, trying to work up the courage to part the curtain and look out at whatever horror was anticipating him. With shaking fingers, Gerard grabbed the bottom corner of the curtain and slowly pulled it aside. 

When the curtain was parted, a cold gust of wind struck the skin of Gerard’s face. It was a moist wind, and Gerard saw that the window was covered with streams of cold rain. The window was open slightly, and one of the trails of rain was pouring in and dripping down onto the unused heater beneath the windowsill, causing the splattering noise. 

With a sigh, Gerard reached forward and closed the window. There was nothing around to cast the silhouette shadow on the curtain, but Gerard was willing to tell himself that it had come from a bird or something perched on the lamppost outside his window. 

Once the window was closed, Gerard replaced the curtain over the glass and turned around to go back to bed. As soon as he faced away from the window, Gerard had to stifle a scream because the silhouette which had been outside the window was now standing between him and his bed. 

“This is a dream,” Gerard said, trying to convince himself that it was true. “Just a dream.” He closed his eyes tightly and took a step forward, prepared to walk through the hallucination and fall into his hotel bed. 

Except the hallucination wrapped its arms around him and pulled him down onto the mattress, one hand over his mouth. How was it that dreams could touch? How could Gerard feel the strong grip of something that _wasn’t real?_

Gerard moaned and tried to fight off the arms around him, but the shadow over top of him was just too strong. 

“Let go!” Gerard yelled, hoping Frank in the next room would hear and come wake him. “Get off!” 

Gerard started flailing and managed to knock back the figure towering over top of him on the bed. When the figure backed off a little bit, Gerard kept kicking and failing his arms, managing to land punch after punch on the chest of the body over him.

He was almost confident that he’d be able to fight the attacker off until, all of a sudden, his arms were pinned next to his head. He heard a voice he couldn’t place tell him to keep still, and when he tried to free his arms he was violently kneed in the groin. Never before had his dreams turned violent toward him…

“Help!” Gerard screamed, hoping Frank would hear and come save him from his waking nightmare. All he received for his efforts was a harsh blow to the face that left him reeling. A sob tore from his throat as he struggled to free himself. 

The blows kept falling down until Gerard laid still, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t really happening—that he wasn’t really being attacked. But that became harder and harder when he felt a cold hand snaked down the front of his boxers.

He didn’t care if it was a dream or not. It felt real—it felt like some crazy fan broke into his hotel room and was trying to rape him. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Gerard brought his knee up and slammed it into the chest of the person over top of him, sending them to the floor. Once they were off him, Gerard reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. He looked down at the floor beside the bed, but there was no one there. Not even a shadow. 

Getting up, Gerard checked the other side of the bed and even peered underneath it, looking desperately for the body he’d felt latch onto him. He looked over at the window, half expecting to see the shadow there, but there was nothing. Not even the sound of the rain. 

With a moan, Gerard sat down on his bed and buried his head in his hands. Even alone he still had the nightmares. He wanted to lie back down and try to get more rest, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What was the point? More sleep meant more dreams. Sleeping wasn’t the problem, it was the horrible, horrible things that he saw. 

He didn’t know if it was a late withdrawal from all the drugs and booze or if he was just being haunted by a particularly angry ghost. All he knew was that he wanted one night—just one night of sleep where he wasn’t haunted by violence, infidelity, and gore.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Gerard cried out as if cut with a knife. He didn’t want anyone to come to him now—he didn’t know if they’d be real or fake. All he wanted was for it to stop. He was tempted to break through the window and jump out into the street if that was what it took…

“Gerard? It’s Frank. Are you okay?”

“Are you actually Frank?” Gerard asked, choking on his own sadness. He wanted to be comforted, but he just _knew_ it would turn into a nightmare. Frank would be holding him and say something about how much he preferred Mikey, or maybe he’d just fall over dead. 

The key card clicked in the door and Frank stepped into the hotel room, looking almost too tired to be an illusion made up from Gerard’s twisted mind. 

“Hey,” Frank said, coming over to the bed and sitting down next to Gerard. “I heard you calling for help. Are you okay?”

“Bad dream,” Gerard mumbled, leaning his head against Frank’s shoulder. His skin was cold and felt soothing against Gerard’s damp forehead. 

“About what?” Frank asked.

“Someone attacking me… Are you really here?” Gerard knew it was useless to ask, but he wanted to be reassured. He wanted comfort. All he wanted was to know what was happening in his life. 

“I’m here, Babe,” Frank said, kissing Gerard on the cheek. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No,” Gerard said, lowering his voice. Deep down he knew that if Frank stayed, he’d probably attack him in another fit. He didn’t want Frank to be put in the way of danger, even though he desperately wanted a warm body to hold onto…even if warm bodies had turned cold in too many of his bad dreams. “It’d just end badly.”

“I hate seeing you like this, Gerard. Is there _anything_ I can do? I feel like… I know it’s paranoid, but I feel like I did something to you that caused this.”

“It’s not you,” Gerard said softly. He didn’t want Frank to feel guilty for anything. 

“I just want to help you. If there’s anything I can do, know I’ll do it. I know your nightmares are trying to turn you against me, but I love you. You know that right?” Frank said, his eyes starting to look teary. It tore Gerard apart to think that Frank was getting hurt just as much as he was. “I didn’t mean to…to do those things to you when you were asleep on the bus. I thought you were awake.”

“You mean the…the blowjob?” Gerard asked, trying hard to remember any detail of that night other than his nightmare—the one where Mikey died in bed beside him.

“Yeah,” Frank said, a tear working its way out of his left eye. He quickly wiped it away and looked ashamed to let Gerard see him so weak. “I really didn’t know.”

“Did I really scratch you?” Gerard asked. 

“A little… I’m sorry I freaked out earlier, I just thought maybe you’d been trying to get away and I’d pulled on you and made you do it. I didn’t mean to make you do anything you didn’t want.” Frank covered his face with his hands as he tried to regain his composure. 

“I wouldn’t fight you, Baby,” Gerard said, trying to be kind. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

“I love you, Gerard,” Frank said, dropping his hands and looking at Gerard sadly. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” Gerard said, laying back on the bed. Frank crawled next to him and rested his head against his shoulder. 

“Can I sleep here? Do you…want me to sleep here?” Frank sounded so desperate. He wanted to be close to Gerard as much as Gerard wanted to be close to him. But was it even safe? Gerard dreamt he’d been attacked. What if it happened again and he attacked Frank? What if he _really_ hurt Frank.

“I want you to stay,” Gerard whispered. “But…can we keep the light on? If the light’s on…I’ll know if it goes out that I’m in a dream.” It was a shot in the dark hoping to capture some sense of what was dream and what was reality. His mind was able to come up with an unending number of scenarios, and there was no doubt his brain would be able to create a horror with the lights on. 

“Okay,” Frank said, sighing and nestling against Gerard’s chest. His eyes slipped clothes and he was soothed to sleep within minutes. Gerard, however, laid beside him wide awake. He needed sleep, but he was terrified. He thought he’d been restless before—he thought rain was keeping him awake when there had been nothing. He’d been sound asleep dreaming that he was awake. 

The line just couldn’t be crossed. That thin, thin line between waking and sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This story, although it does have chapter breaks because it is so long, does not have any time breaks. It runs continuously as Gerard perceives it.
> 
> Also! Follow me on Twitter @Jatty_Sinful!


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